


Monday and Wednesday

by ninchannie



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Awkward Flirting, Bottom Choi San, Cute, Enthusiastic Consent, Happy, Kissing, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shy Choi San, Snow Angels, Soft sex, Stealing Parking Spots, Top Kang Yeosang, Winter, bathing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninchannie/pseuds/ninchannie
Summary: Yeosang has to get onto his tiptoes to be able to get some of the snow off the windshield to free the wiper where he wants to stick his strongly worded note under.“What do you think you’re doing with my car?” A sudden voice comes from behind him, making him swirl around.A young man is standing there, clearly irritated by finding someone at his car and Yeosang is... baffled.The man is stunning. Too stunning to be the person who steals his spot every Monday and Wednesday. He looks so different too, his eyes glinting with something that doesn’t quite fit into the blandness of the city. Yeosang really needs to close his mouth.
Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 22
Kudos: 177





	Monday and Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my writiny secret santa fic for Light (@thrulightandark), I hope you like it!! I actually managed to get a few of your prompts into this in a way that works really well, and it was very fun to write :3

Yeosang doesn’t hate his job.

Well, being completely honest, Yeosang doesn’t _love_ his job either. He doesn’t even _like_ it most days. It is mostly tolerable. It pays his rent and gives him decent health insurance and hey, he gets more days off than most of his friends, but he really, _really_ doesn’t enjoy his job.

But jobs aren’t to be enjoyed. They’re to be powered through, so in the evening you come out with a full stomach and a roof over your head and maybe a glass of wine while watching Netflix. They’re just a means to an end, said end being an enjoyable _life_. Life is to be enjoyed.

Maybe that’s where Yeosang’s less than mediocre opinion of his job comes from, because he doesn’t particularly enjoy the surroundings which with his current job has blessed him. A position that promised chances for promotions and travelling the world, if he just put enough _work_ into it.

Yeosang thinks that he actually put just that and more into his job, but of those promised wonders, nothing has happened yet, except for a stressful two-day trip to Little Rock, Arkansas. Most prior knowledge he had about the place beforehand came from Vine and a quick Wikipedia-reading in the airplane.

It’s not that however, that makes him feel ever so slightly miserable with the state of his current life. Because work is duty, it’s annoying hours and aching bones from days spent at his desk. But that’s okay, that’s what he signed up for when he decided to work at a bank of all places.

The thing he wishes he would’ve been warned about before blindly grasping the first promise of promotions and travels coming with a position in the headquarters somewhere in nowhere, was the _surroundings_ of it all. The culture, the experiences, the… the lack thereof.

Because the city he now lives in fits a banking job so perfectly, it’s nearly humorous. It is bland and grey, too big to be considered a town but too small to have anything interesting in it. The architecture screams 70s block buildings, that are falling apart after fifty years, not that anyone thinks of doing anything about that.

The roads are cracked, because the traffic is too bad to ever give an opportunity to renew them and anything new and exciting opening up, be it a fun looking store or a new restaurant, closes after two months at most and moves to the next bigger city.

And with his job and the surroundings of it, Yeosang feels himself blending in more and more, getting slower, getting duller. Maybe he’s sepia already, he couldn’t tell in the dusty air of his ratty apartment. He can’t quite tell what is happening to him, all he knows is that he doesn’t particularly enjoy it.

Still, on a Monday morning at nine he rushes into the office and scribbles hasty words on the first piece of paper he can find, not even bothering to pull off his coat before storming out again. Because on top of everything, of every tiny, annoying, grey thing, one giant asshole decides to take a giant, stinking dump on it each Monday and Wednesday.

Yeosang has a parking spot for fucks sake. One with a tiny plate that has _his name_ on it. It’s right near the entrance, halfway undercover so even if it rains or snows, he has to walk mere three metres before he’s in safety. And yet, each Monday and Wednesday, said asshole manages to ruin even that for him.

With his giant, expensive SUV he stands big and proud on Yeosang’s spot as if it’s his own. The first few times Yeosang thought maybe the prior worker forgot the spot isn’t theirs anymore and doesn’t care to read the sign with _his_ name on it, but when it happened again and again, twice a week, he realized that someone simply liked being more than just a little rude.

Of course, Yeosang tried to combat it by even coming in earlier these days, but the car stood there every time, with the few others of those who start work earlier, forcing Yeosang to find a spot somewhere in the lot for customers and having to walk the dreadful path to the entry, through rain, fog and snow.

It’s been months, and all Yeosang could really find out so far (not that he ever openly asked, he’s still very much the foreign, new guy and has to fight for his position) is that the car belongs to some rich CEO of an international company, that checks in with his bank twice a week. But every time Yeosang finally clocks out to get his deserved lunch break, the guy is gone and Yeosang can’t even politely tell him off about stealing his spot.

That’s what brings him to current times, under first snowfall, where Yeosang finally has enough of the shenanigans and decides a kindly worded (he thinks) note is appropriate. He’s just stalking back up the foyer, past his colleague at the entrance desk, when she stops him, clearly ignoring his agitated mood.

“Leaving a note for hubby?” Linda asks with her chin on her hands, brows wiggling suggestively.

Yeosang stops in his tracks before turning to her and coming closer, leaning against her desk. “Excuse me, what?”

She looks down at the note in his hands for a second, before going right back to her knowing grin. “Come on, it’s so obvious how he reserves your spot every Monday and Wednesday. I know you’re probably staying safe by keeping it a secret, but,” and she lowers her voice here, “your secret is safe with me.”

Confused, Yeosang’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he shakes himself out of it. He has work to do after all, and before that he will leave his strongly worded note on the unnecessarily big car occupying his spot.

“Right, secret,” he deflects, throwing fingers guns at Linda. “Anyway, I have to go now, see you at lunch?”

With that, he turns on his heels and heads for the big glass doors at the entry, only to be stopped by a suited figure coming from there and towards him. Yeosang groans, internally, when his boss smiles that smile of his that signals extra work.

“ _Ah_ , Kang, good that I catch you now, I have a few questions about the report before the meeting starts, come on.” His voice is polite but leaves no ground for discussion, so Yeosang crumbles the paper into his coat pocket and follows his boss. “Oh, and Kang? We all adore Linda but flirting with co-workers is against company policy.”

Great. Linda thinks Yeosang is married to pretentious SUV-guy and Yeosang’s boss thinks he’s flirting with Linda. What an amazing start into the week. Truly and utterly great.

❄

The first few times San visited the bank after expanding his company to the US, he got hellishly lost in the sheer endless hallways of the place. That was before he moved into the area, before his brand truly took off. Now he’s the executive for the North American headquarters and lives here constantly, close to his brokers, close to his bank and everything he could need.

It’s idyllic compared to the stressful Seoul bustle he lived in before. It might not be for life, San is certain of that, but for now he’s happy where he is and glad to see such a starkly different place of the earth, even if that entails biweekly meetings at the most confusing bank building in the world.

It’s no less _strange_ now, than it was in the beginning, but he knows his way around (mostly) and finds his way out on his own, even from the most remote offices and meeting rooms he’s put into to get profits and numbers broken down.

He knows that somewhere there’s an elevator too, but San likes to people-watch in these places. It’s so different from anywhere he worked at before, so it’s intriguing to take the stairs and hallways the workers take too and see how they’re hustling about their work.

He’s just descending the large staircase to the foyer, making his way out of the bank just in time for brunch, when the lovely lady working at the entry desk calls him over. San sifts through his brain for her name a few times, setting up his most charming smile as he comes over, still thinking about her name-

Ah, Linda. Like her name tag says. He knew that of course.

“A productive day, Mr. Choi?” She asks politely, just smalltalk, maybe even a ploy of the bank to hook customers in with nice words and sweet smiles.

“It only just started but it certainly wasn’t too bad yet,” he answers, chiming into her fake laughter. He’s still new to this utterly American concept of unnecessary smalltalk. Talking to Linda is actually a surprisingly welcome practice for San. Hmm, now that he thinks about it, maybe that’s another ploy.

Linda pulls him away from conspiracy thoughts with her next words. “Your husband looked a bit stressed earlier, I hope he’s not overworking himself,” she says and the concern in her voice almost seems… real? How strange.

San’s brows furrow as he tries to come up with a logical conclusion of what she’s saying, but nothing comes to mind.

“My husband?” He questions, still very much confused.

Cocking her head, Linda’s eyes flit down to San’s hands that are resting against the counter, before her eyes widen. “Oh, I mean your boyfriend of course. I totally assumed you were married, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, not helping San in figuring out the situation one bit. “I think it’s really sweet of you to reserve his spot in the morning. He might have a sign with his name, but some people still park there despite it, so that’s really thoughtful of you.”

Reserve his parking spot? San usually parks at the spot with the name _Kang_ , always assumed the bank was extra nice in giving him a spot but accidentally having printed a sign of his business partner instead of him. What are the chances of finding someone with a Korean name in a bank in the middle of American nowhere? Apparently not as small as San expected.

He smiles wider at Linda, tapping the counter twice before standing up straight. “Finding a parking spot in this city is so hard, I just love to help him out, you know it,” he says, easily playing with the act. If there’s actually a Kang working here, he would’ve come to him by now, right? San must be misunderstanding something.

“He’s lucky to have someone like you, Mr. Choi,” she replies. “And apologies again for thinking you were _married_ , you don’t even have the same last name, how dumb of me.”

“No need to apologize, Linda, we get that _all_ the time.” With another fake laugh, San waves her goodbye, finally leaving for good. He can’t help but smile at the situation once he gets into his car and backs out of the spot.

❄

The streets are dangerously icy when Yeosang gets into work on Wednesday, and of course his spot is stolen, not that he expected anything else, really. He slips his way into the foyer and past Linda on the phone, who winks him over and quickly ends the call.

“Good morning, Yeosang,” she chimes cheerfully, manicured nails drumming on her desk. “Your boyfie left something for you before his meeting.”

With an excessive eyebrow wiggle she reaches below the table and pulls out a stacked lunch box to place it in front of Yeosang on the counter. Her eyes are nearly falling out of her head as she watches him open it carefully.

Inside the top box is a compartment for rice with a fried egg on top and in the slimmer one a small array of side dishes is prettily set up. It smells delicious and despite his confusion, Yeosang can’t wait for his lunch break. In the bottom one a steaming soup is placed to warm up the top box.

“Who left this again?” Yeosang asks, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Your boyfriend!” She exclaims with a smile. “You two are so cute, but don’t worry, your secret will always stay safe with me.”

“R-right, the boyfriend who also steals, _uh_ \- reserves my parking spot,” Yeosang replies and Linda’s brows furrow but she nods. Grabbing the box Yeosang’s non-existent boyfriend left for him, he gives her a short wave. “See you later, Linda.”

The day passes by weirdly slowly, maybe because the snow steadily falling outside dances through the air so daintily, it seems like it’s not _falling_ at all, and maybe because Yeosang is thrown under with boring accounting work that an intern could easily do.

He doesn’t even have time to leave for lunch and go to the canteen, and instead eats at his desk, careful to get no traces of his surprise meal on any documents. He hates to admit that it’s delicious, even though he doesn’t know who made it for him and why.

Maybe he should be more careful about eating it, but who would poison a random bank worker. Yeosang isn’t important enough for that, he’s well aware.

Maybe it’s the season, but from the few minutes Yeosang gives himself to grab a new cup of coffee, he notices how everyone else seems to be drowned in work as well, and all the meeting rooms are still occupied where they usually are left empty after noon.

When he finally gets out of work, Yeosang is an hour in overtime and still not the last to leave. He’s ready to simply walk to his car, unbury it from snow and then freeze on his way home, but when he gets out as the sun sends a few last rays through the thick clouds, he’s stopped by the sight of the giant SUV usually only parked on his spot in the mornings.

Despite the cold and despite his need for a blanket and a glass of wine, Yeosang is taken over by sudden determination, tinged with anger, so he stomps back through the foyer and up the stairs to his office, rushing to his cuticle to grab the crumpled note he knows he left somewhere there on Monday.

He eventually finds it in one of his drawers and flattens it out as best as he can before grabbing a clear plastic slip, so the note won’t dissolve in the snow.

Yeosang never ran down the hallway faster, worried that as soon as he’ll step out of the building the car will be gone. He flies down the hallways, past a group of disgruntled people exiting one of the biggest meeting rooms that’s used for video calls with international partners.

He nearly stumbles down the stairs, but when he finally gets out with a last wave at Linda, Yeosang is delighted to see that the giant car is still there. He never thought he would feel happy to see it, but sure enough he wears a determined grin on his face during the careful walk over.

The streets are icy in a way Yeosang hasn’t seen them in a long time. Usually the snow turns to sludge before ice can even truly form and even if it manages to, the salt will be sure to turn it into mush anyway. This time however, he’s lucky he doesn’t slip on his way to the car.

Yeosang has to get onto his tiptoes to be able to get some of the snow off the windshield to free the wiper where he wants to stick the note under. His fingers are freezing as he fumbles for it, trying to gently get it upwards but slipping off from how hard he’s trembling.

“ _Uhh_ , what do you think you’re doing with my car?” A sudden voice comes from behind Yeosang, making him swirl around as quickly as he can, nearly slipping but managing to catch himself.

A young man is standing there in a prim and proper suit, an expensive looking woollen coat over it and a plaid scarf hanging around his shoulders. He’s raising his brows at Yeosang, clearly irritated by finding him by his car and Yeosang is... baffled.

The man is stunning, a face suited to promote skin care or makeup, Yeosang doesn’t even know, not to park at a bank every Monday and Wednesday to steal his spot. He’s so _young_ too, his eyes glinting with something that doesn’t fit into the blandness of the city.

Yeosang's knees feel wobbly but he tries to stand, to smooth his way cheaper jacket out and regain some semblance of posture but instead he slips completely, yelping in surprise and ready for his head to hit the car, the concrete, the ice-

Not for surprisingly strong arms to catch him and keep him from crashing into the floor.

He’s in that weird position that only happens in movies, in dramas, where one character falls and gets caught by their love interest, back arched and bent in their arms, pressed against them. Yeosang looks up and swears some cheesy song should start playing, stars erupting around them because the stranger’s face is so _close_. And no less pretty like that.

Yeosang opens and closes his mouth a few times, wondering why the other man isn’t speaking up, why he’s not letting him go, why he’s staring back. His eyes flutter back and forth over Yeosang's face as if he can’t quite believe the sight either.

“Oh my _god_!” Someone shrieks from afar and the two scramble apart, the stranger’s hands never quite leaving Yeosang and even keeping him close with an arm around him when he stands. Yeosang blushes furiously but ignores it for the sake of Linda coming their way, surprisingly steady on her heels.

“I’ve never seen you two together,” she says giddily. “Did you wait for your boyfriend, Mr. Choi? That’s so _cute_ , gosh, I can’t _believe_ it.”

Yeosang’s lips are quivering but it’s not only from the cold and thankfully the stranger – Mr. Choi apparently – takes talking upon himself.

“Oh no, today’s meeting took the whole day, so it worked out perfectly for us to meet up after work, right love?” He says and his voice is a lot sweeter than when he called Yeosang out before.

It takes him a second to realize that _he_ is ‘love’, but when he does, he only blushes deeper and nods, hoping that’s enough of an answer for Linda. Apparently it is, because with a dreamy sigh she grabs onto her coat tighter and fishes her car keys from her purse.

“Well, I won’t interrupt you two any further, see you tomorrow Yeosang and happy holidays Mr. Choi, in case we won’t see each other before that.” With that and a small wave she turns and walks down the row of cars at the front of the building, to reach her own.

Belatedly, Yeosang realizes Mr. Choi's arm is still around him and he quickly scrambles free to turn around and face him. Yeosang happily finds that the other’s cheeks are also pink, maybe just from the cold, but he’ll believe the other possibility for now.

“So, Yeosang? Is that my boyfriend’s name?” The stranger asks with a half-smile, as if he’s unsure joking is the right thing to do in this situation.

Yeosang’s eyes widen and he stammers for words once more, this time finally getting some out. “How... why... Did you start that rumour?” He babbles, before shaking his head. “Sorry, _uh_ , yes I’m Yeosang, _Kang_ Yeosang, like it says on my parking lot.” He nods to the side then, at Mr. Choi's gigantic car currently occupying the space.

The other’s eyes widen. “O-oh, oh my gosh, I thought- I didn’t,” he stammers and Yeosang is glad he’s not the only one. “I-I’m Choi San. The parking thing... a giant misunderstanding, I promise.”

“I was about to leave you a note, but yeah... not needed now...” Yeosang mumbles, holding up the paper for a second before stuffing it into his overflowing bag.

“A note? That’s so... _cute_ ,” San says with an adorable voice, making Yeosang’s heart stutter just a little. “You work here, right? Couldn’t you just have asked which asshole owns the giant car that occupies your spot every Monday and Wednesday?”

“I could’ve... yeah I probably actually should have done that...” Yeosang says, voice turning into a whisper as he gets distracted by snowflakes melting on the other’s skin. “I-I should probably get going... See you around?”

San's mouth falls open a little, but he quickly snaps himself out of it. “Yeah, I’ll see you around... I promise.” The smile he sends Yeosang with the words is blinding and punches all air out of Yeosang.

He’s glad that he doesn’t trip when he turns around to walk to his car, only nearly slipping like... three times, but before he turns the corner to the customer parking lot, Yeosang turns back once more, expecting to see the lot empty and only red lights a reminder of it.

But he’s not the only one looking. Choi San is looking too, with parted lips and still in the same spot Yeosang left him in.

❄

San doesn’t come back to the bank for the rest of the month – which also means for the rest of the _year_. Yeosang is busy enough but he still notices the absence of the obnoxiously giant car, even of Linda making funny comments about them ‘dating'. She’s also busy.

Money doesn’t stop flowing over the holidays, quite the opposite actually.

Maybe that makes it a little easier for Yeosang to ignore the feeling of missing something that settles in his chest. It’s stupid, because he can finally park where he’s supposed to, can get into work without ending up drenched, but still... something is missing. The usual determination he has fuelling him on Monday’s and Wednesday’s is gone.

He gets a few days off over New Year’s, but sadly it doesn’t make coming back any easier. His first day goes by painfully slowly, any and all ounces of relaxation he thought he grabbed over his free days melting through his fingers like snowflakes on the salty mess of the streets.

At least he gets out on time, somehow having managed to power through and get all the work that piled up done. He nearly misses it when he walks to his car, already pushing the snow off of the windshield before he even notices the small note pushed into the slit at the base of his side mirror.

Despite being wrapped in clear plastic foil, the note is smudged a little, but Yeosang manages to skim over it by unlocking his car and sitting down, flicking on the light above his rear-view mirror to make the writing more easily decipherable.

When he finally manages to read over it completely, he can’t help but snort, feeling just slightly stupid that he’s sitting alone in his car, pink nose and trembling fingers and smiling at a note from someone he barely even met.

_Such a big parking lot for such little car_. _Maybe we should carpool? Text me. xo's, your boyfie ;)_

Yeosang can’t deny that the blush in his cheeks isn’t just from the cold, but he quickly stuffs the note into his pocket and finishes off clearing the windows up before driving home. The whole way he can’t quite stop smiling, already plotting his message to San, who wrote his number underneath the short message.

Even with planning however, he still can’t quite get himself to send a message, instead occupying himself with showering and making tea until he finally settles down on his sofa, the worn material sighing under his weight, to finally save the number in his phone.

No one has to know that instead of Choi San, he names the contact _boyfriend_ 💜.

_I still got your boxes_

_Thank u for that lunch btw, it was very good_

_Oh it’s Yeosang btw_

_Kang Yeosang from the bank_

Those are the messages he finally settles on, feeling stupid because how can he be this awkward, even over text? Jesus, Yeosang, now he probably won’t even-

Yeosang’s phone pinging with a new message interrupts his thoughts.

Boyfriend 💜 :

_I’m glad you enjoyed it_

_Will tell the cook your regards_

Yeosang can only silence his squeal at the quick response by biting his fist, before the meaning behind the words settle in.

_Your cook? Is that how you call your wife?_

The answer is immediate again.

Boyfriend 💜 :

_I’m offended you’d say something like that, aren’t we boyfriends Yeosang? ;)_

_I’ll call you Yeosang if that’s okay. Please call me San too_

_But no, cook means cook in this case. Nothing more_

Yeosang’s cheeks are burning but he pushes it at the tea being hot, ignoring that he didn’t even take a sip yet. That whole pretend-boyfriend thing is really doing no good to his heart. Loneliness felt a bit too encompassing over the last few months, so even this seems to make him go a little crazy.

_So, the boxes... should I give them to Linda so you can get them from her?_

Boyfriend 💜 :

_Why don’t we meet up instead? Go on a nice walk through the snow or sth?_

_Do you actually call that grey sludge snow?_

Boyfriend 💜 :

_It’s not grey at all out here_

_I don’t live directly in the city_

Groaning to himself, Yeosang wonders how he ever expected anything else from someone with that giant a car. The suburbs are actually quite pretty. But pretty means expensive, an expensive Yeosang can’t even dream of if he doesn’t plan on robbing the bank. He only says one thing, hoping it won’t come off too spiteful.

_Lucky you_

Boyfriend 💜 :

_Maybe you should spare me a visit... for the boxes and some actual snow of course_

_Wait that sounded creepy_

_You don’t even have to come into my house or anything_

_But I live at the edge of a pretty park, so a walk through the snow is still one the table, just with cheaper parking ;)_

_Going through a snowy walk with a stranger who gave me free lunch_

_How reckless_

Boyfriend 💜 :

_I can’t believe you’d say such things about your!! Boyfriend!!_

_Jokes hehe_

God, San will make Yeosang explode if he keeps being this... this _cute_. Yeosang can’t take it, how do you even handle that? It doesn’t matter, he'll find a way. Because apparently he’s brave now, given that he’s already sending his next message.

_I’ll take the offer of that walk... boyfriend ;)_

_Send me the address_

❄

Saturday’s are already Yeosang’s favourite days, free of work except for some things he usually pushes off until Sunday. Great TV program and if not, most of his friends will be online to play games with him. It’s just a grand old time. But this Saturday? Yeosang hasn’t been as excited for something in a long time.

It’s still snowing, so he leaves early, but the streets are slippery and somehow Yeosang ends up fashionably late anyway. Would this be a work meeting, he’d be embarrassed to the bones, but maybe it’s better this way. Makes him look less... desperate. At least that’s what he tells himself when he pulls up to the giant gate casted of silver iron.

There’s a little radio with a button, but he doesn’t even have to open his window when the gate suddenly opens, San probably able to see him over cameras. It’s not even fancy, it’s completely alien to Yeosang, but he swallows his nerves as he drives down the neatly shovelled path up to the modern house San apparently _lives_ in.

Yeosang only ever saw buildings this fancy in cities he visited, housing art galleries or hotels, but at least it’s not the colonial style mansion he expected. It’s... reasonably big... kind of. Looking fitting against the backdrop of trees that must belong to the park close by.

In front of the house, San's SUV is parked haphazardly, so Yeosang swiftly pulls up next to it without caring much about the placement of his car. It feels ratty, rundown next to San's SUV, but Yeosang thinks that he also isn’t the funder of a gigantic start-up that popped off, like San explained him is how he got to his wealth, when they texted in the evenings over the week.

Barely out of his car, Yeosang isn’t even allowed a few seconds to compose himself before San is already skipping to his direction, wearing a thick jacket and fluffy scarf along a wide smile. He looks breath-taking with thick snowflakes wafting around him and Yeosang pulls his own coat tighter around himself, smoothing down the fabric. He got it on sale once he thinks, for ten bucks maybe.

He expects their greeting to be more awkward, that weird dance of hug or no hug, shaking hands or is that too professional? Instead San never loses his smile and simply raises his hand in a friendly wave when he’s close enough, greeting Yeosang before holding out his elbow for the other to take.

With a beating heart, Yeosang pushes his arm in the space and let’s himself be led around the house while they make smalltalk, away from neatly cleaned stone to a trampled path until they reach the back porch of San's house and with it the expanse of an extensive garden, fenced in by more metal to the directly adjacent park.

The snow is deep except for a narrow walkway leading to a small gate and Yeosang’s eyes widen at the winter wonderland in front of him. He hasn’t seen anything like it in a long time, nothing even _close_ to it except on TV.

San can’t possibly stop him from pulling away and thundering forward, plunging himself off of the low porch and into the deep blanket of snow. He has to fight a little to stand back up, his whole body already covered in white but Yeosang only looks _thrilled_.

“What are you doing?” San asks amusedly from the porch, leaning against one of the wooden pillars holding up the roof, with crossed arms. Yeosang looks up at him and his breath stutters in his throat, San looks tall and powerful, beautiful, completely handsome with his easy smile and confident stance.

“I want to- I want to make a snow angel,” he somehow manages to get out, blushing when San can’t help but giggle.

“Yeosang, my dear mistaken boyfriend,” he jokes, and Yeosang hurls a snowball at him that the other only narrowly avoids. “I know white snow is a scarcity for you, but it’s too deep for you to- oh, there you go I guess.”

With outspread arms, Yeosang let’s himself fall backwards, eyes closed and smiling wide, the snow pillowing his fall and puffing up around him. He’s trapped like a turtle on their back, the snow too abundant, too thick to even be moved by his arms. He made a perfect imprint of the shape of his body, but in no world an angel.

He can’t stop giggling.

San is laughing too, nearly falling off the porch as he can’t decide if he should keep watching the other struggle, or if he should help him up instead. Eventually Yeosang chokes too prettily on his laughter, pitifully scrambling and failing to get up.

“ _Saaaan_ , a good boyfriend helps his partner,” he says with an obvious whiny tone in his voice.

It’s apparently effective, because not a second later he can hear the crunch of snow and then feel some fall on him as San begins to shovel away the snow around Yeosang, trying to free him somewhat. With some effort, they manage to get him to a point where he can stand up.

San pulls Yeosang up with enough movement to knock him back a little, their chests connecting, nearly making their heads bump together. Yeosang’s fingers are ice-cold against San's and maybe that’s why he doesn’t pull back. Maybe it’s the iciness of his lips that makes his gaze stray to San's.

Maybe it’s the same the other way around.

Because San is definitely looking up and down between Yeosang’s eyes and mouth, up and down while gravitating closer. Or is Yeosang coming closer? He doesn’t know who it is, but he knows he can taste San's breath on his tongue, feel the warmth radiate off of him.

A shudder runs through him and his teeth clatter loudly. San pulls back.

“You’re cold,” he whispers, his voice clearly affected but he shakes himself out of it, gulping hard and taking a step back. “You’re already shivering, and we haven’t even left my garden."

“I-it’s just a bit chilly,” Yeosang replies quickly, his clattering teeth making speaking hard. He wraps his arms around himself and feels the way wetness seeps through his clothes. “And maybe my jacket is a little drenched.”

Grabbing one of his hands, San pulls Yeosang out of the deep snow and onto the path. “Let’s get you inside and into some warm clothes, okay? We can still take a walk after that.”

Yeosang’s heart stutters in his chest, but he finds himself following along. “Weren’t y-you the one warning me to not go into your house because it’s creepy?” He asks jokingly, his hand shaking in San's, who never drops his.

“Weren’t you the one texting a random number stuck to your car?” San counters easily, carefully helping Yeosang up onto the porch, so he won’t slip on the wet wood.

Fondly rolling his eyes, Yeosang kicks the snow off of his boots. “W-werent you-" another shudder interrupts him. Maybe it’s not the right time to be playfully defiant. “Okay, let’s go inside.”

San chuckles cutely before unlocking the back door and bidding Yeosang in. His house is warm. It’s also many other things, spacious and modern, yet somehow kept cosy and homely, but the most important thing for Yeosang is the warmth he feels as he pries off his jacket and shoes.

The other man takes the drenched coat and hangs it over one of the radiators in the open living space, before taking his own off and showing Yeosang where to put his shoes near the front door. He gives him a short tour, noticing how the fabric of Yeosang’s light grey sweater is dark with moisture in some spots.

“Your jacket really isn’t waterproof,” he comments, making Yeosang wince and San immediately feels bad, so he smiles gently at the other, directing him to the couch. “Do you maybe want a warm, and most importantly a _dry_ sweater from me?”

Yeosang’s eyes widen. “O-oh, you don’t have to do that, just warming up in here for a little will be good enough.”

“Okay, but don’t tell Linda it was my fault if you get sick with that wet jumper you got there,” San says, propping the pillows of his couch up and motioning for Yeosang to sit down.

After doing so, the other looks down on himself, trying to ignore the way the fabric is sticking to his skin. Maybe San is right, but it would be a little too much if Yeosang would accept the request, right? He wasn’t even supposed to be inside of San's house, and now he’s sitting on his couch.

“I’ll make some tea for us, okay?” San says softly, distracting Yeosang from his thoughts. He turns around to walk to the open kitchen and Yeosang looks after him, feeling his heart beat into his throat. His fingers are clammy.

“Hey San?” He asks carefully, letting luck decide if it will be loud enough for the other to hear. Fate is merciful on him, or maybe not at all, because San turns around where he’s getting his kettle. “About that sweater... I’d like to take the offer actually.”

San smiles impossibly brightly, putting the kettle onto the stand and pressing the button for it to boil. “Of course, you can just put yours on one of the radiators as well if you want, or I can run a dryer for you?”

“No no, that’s okay!” Yeosang says quickly nearly choking on his spit. San sends him a quick thumbs up before disappearing in the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

The water starts bubbling as Yeosang stands up and pulls his jumper off, walking towards the radiator as he does so. He’s got it over his head when he realizes why the jumper felt so sticky on his skin. Because for some strange reason he didn’t put on a shirt underneath. Probably the nerves.

Over the sound of boiling water, he can’t hear San approach him, only realizing movement in his peripheral vision when the other is already close to him, a thick sweater bunched up in his arms. Yeosang blushes in embarrassment and covers himself as best as he can with the wet jumper.

“I-I’m sorry-“ is all he manages to stutter out before San's mouth closes, his jaw having dropped open beforehand, and he interrupts him.

“I know the whole boyfriend thing is a misunderstanding, but I have to admit seeing you shirtless in my living room makes my heart flutter a little,” he says breathlessly and Yeosang can feel his own heart do the same.

With careful delicacy, he peels what’s left of his jumper off and drops it to the floor. “Yeah? Maybe you should do something about that,” he says, and for some lucky reason his voice doesn’t shake. “I heard heart palpitations can be really dangerous...”

San licks his lips, and it does things to Yeosang that he didn’t feel in a long time. Deliberate like a cat, San steps closer, dropping the sweater in his arms to the floor just like he did. His eyes are intense, making Yeosang’s skin feel prickly in the warmth of the room.

“What do you recommend to me then? Got any tricks up your sleeve for that?” San's voice is smooth like satin and Yeosang feels choked up in the presence of him. He takes a few steadying intakes of air, mirroring San's movements like two predators circling each other.

“As you already noticed, I don’t have any sleeves right now... _oh_ , now that I think about it, maybe that would be a start for you.”

Only centimetres are left between them, Yeosang easily feeling the heat of San's body, of San's _gaze_ , radiate from him. His eyes fall to the other’s lips, wet and pink and automatically he bites down on his own, noticing San's eyes widening just so at the sight.

“Help me with that?” San breathes and it breaks the spell, the tension pulled so tight between them and at once they both lunge forward, Yeosang’s hands tangling in the fabric of San's top and the other scraping blunt nails over his back.

Their lips meet mismatched yet soft, careful because they don’t know each other yet. Yeosang doesn’t know San and San doesn’t know him, but kissing has always been something that people can do, acquainted or not. And both of them give themselves to it completely, letting the feeling take them under.

San’s lips are soft and shaky, clearly as excited – or scared? – as Yeosang feels. But somehow, he manages to keep them together, to guide his own bottom lip between San's and softly suck his top one into his mouth, teeth grazing over it.

The skin of Yeosang’s back tingles under San's fingertips, his own nearly numb as he holds tightly on to the other’s shirt. God, Yeosang feels drunk on it. He can’t stop himself from wanting more, wanting deeper, even when San parts his mouth and gives him just that by carefully grazing his tongue over his.

He still crowds closer, San stepping backwards with the strength of Yeosang, until he’s stopped by the back of the couch, their bodies pressed together completely. It’s the faintest bit of pressure but enough to make Yeosang whine cutely, his voice breaking as San swallows the noise.

With a smile he pulls back, one hand reaching up to push Yeosang’s hair out of his forehead, fingertips gazing over his pink lips. “Yeah, I don’t think that helped with the heart palpitations... but we haven’t gotten my shirt off yet, huh?”

Yeosang can’t help but smile, pulling back enough to pull the crumpled fabric up and over San's head, carelessly throwing it to the side. Looking down, he can’t help but gulp, San's body toned yet soft, slim waist and broad shoulder, yet still _small_. It makes him feel slightly overwhelmed.

He tries to swallow his nerves when San bends forward and presses his lips to Yeosang’s collar bones, huffing short kisses into his skin. It’s a delicate touch, yet still enough to make him feel weak in the knees. He even has to grab San's shoulder for purpose, trying to ground himself.

“H-hey, San?” He asks shyly, his voice already raspy and ruined. San looks up at him with big, dark eyes sparkling in the light. Yeosang blushes. “It’s been a while for me... you know, being with someone...”

San straightens up immediately, gently bringing his hand up to reach for Yeosang’s. “That’s okay,” he says as if it’s that easy. “It hasn’t been for me, but it’s been long since I’ve done something with someone I don’t... someone I don’t know that well.”

Yeosang breathes out in relief. “Is that okay? That we don’t know each other well?”

Chuckling, San brings Yeosang’s left hand to his lips. “Of course it is, if you want that too.”

“Yes please,” comes the immediate answer, softly whispered. “I’m not prepared or anything though, I don’t even know what-"

San is good at taking his worries away. Yeosang doesn’t know him long yet, but he realizes as much, when he’s interrupted once more, by the exact words he needs.

“How about we take a shower together? Or a bath? Get to know each other like that...” San requests, thumbs tracing patterns over Yeosang’s skin.

His eyes widen a little. “I haven’t taken a bath in so long,” he gasps and San's face lights up even more.

“Okay then, let’s go,” he says and slips out between Yeosang and the couch, pulling him along to the bathroom, ignoring the tea water long since having gotten cold.

Yeosang sits at the edge of the bath as San draws it, putting in gentle smelling oils that make Yeosang feel even headier as he already does. It’s almost like a dream when San opens his belt and slowly steps out of his pants, his cock soft and his face pink as he steps into the water and sits down on one end of the luxurious tub.

“Watch me first, if you’re nervous,” San breathes once he’s settled in completely, spreading his legs and bringing a hand down until he can graze his fingers over himself, his cock hardening up almost immediately.

Yeosang watches and feels like he should snap himself out of this if it’s truly a dream, that he has to wake up to his bland apartment because this just can’t be true. San is even more stunning like this, damp hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes hooded but steady on Yeosang, mouth parted with little pants as he coaxes a finger into himself, the friction uncomfortable under the water, but worth it.

“Come in when you’re ready,” San gasps with his finger inside of him, eyes fluttering shut here and there when it gets easier, when he reminds his body of his endless limits.

Standing up, Yeosang’s hands tremble enough that he takes a few attempts to open his button and zipper, barely managing to get out of his pants, making San smile with hot cheeks. Yeosang stumbles forward then, holding himself up on the edge of the tub and carefully settling into the hot water, right across from San and with clear view of him spread out, only distorted by the water.

His hands run up San’s legs automatically, making him shiver and nearly slip in the tub, a quick giggle erupting from his throat. Yeosang is completely hard, clearly affected just by the sight and sounds, but now _touching_ San feels like the man is melting into his skin. Like Yeosang will never be the same again.

Gently, he takes San's right foot and pushes his leg up further before pressing a kiss to his ankle, the bones stark under the skin. San shudders and pulls his finger out of himself, grabbing onto the edge of the tub for purpose as Yeosang bends forward, kissing his knee on both sides first, then in the middle.

He carries on like that with his other leg too, before carefully sliding forward and reaching for one of San's hands, turning it around to kiss the delicate skin on the inside of his wrist, then once more the bony angles of it.

San moans. “You don’t seem out of practice, you know?” He breathes, his cock jumping when Yeosang’s nudges against his thigh.

The other smiles against the crook of his elbow. “I might not have done this in a while, but that doesn’t mean I never dreamt a little...”

Opening his eyes, San smiles, pulling himself up to be on eye-level with Yeosang. “Did you dream of me then?” He asks with a cocky tone to his voice and Yeosang _throbs_ , the water throwing small waves around him.

“M-maybe a little...” He admits shyly, gasping when San’s lips touch his in a wet kiss, tasting like soap and flowers.

With hooded eyes, San pulls back, looking like he’s ready to _devour_ Yeosang. “Yeah? In this position?” He asks, biting his bottom lip when he notices the other’s eyes glued to it.

Yeosang lightly shakes his head. “Definitely not in a bathtub,” he breathes. “And I thought you’d be the one to fuck me, but I don’t mind where this is going at all.”

San smirks evilly. “I can do that too, later. But first I want your pretty cock inside of me.” To truly underline his statement, he reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Yeosang, dragging them over him under the water torturously slowly. Yeosang nearly slips against the smooth tub.

Not able to hold back a cute giggle, San quickly pulls back and stands up, a lot more gracefully than Yeosang thinks he could ever look. A towel is handed to him and he steps out of the water carefully, next to San who’s already drying himself off.

“So,” San says once he’s done, carelessly dropping the towel to the floor and confidently standing there completely naked, his cock hard and pink. “Where do you want it? We can start a fire and do it on the couch, or I show you how pretty the sight is from upstairs, or-“

Yeosang interrupts him by swooping forward and pressing San against the marble sink hands behind him on the stone to cage him in. “I don’t think I can wait that long if you keep being this… this _pretty_ ,” he says, eyes drinking in the sight of San’s surprised expression.

“Pretty?” He says with a short laugh, cocking his head. “Usually people call me hot, maybe handsome… but never pretty.”

Nearly growling, Yeosang swiftly grabs San’s wrist and turns him around to the mirror, looking at his reflection over his shoulder. “Look at you,” he whispers, before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re very pretty.”

Blushing, San’s jaw drops open as his mind gets clouded with arousal. “With you,” he chokes out. “I’m pretty with you.”

Yeosang blushes too but he keeps kissing along the length of San’s shoulder, over his neck and on the stark knob of his highest vertebrae. “You’re pretty on your own,” he whispers between kisses. “I can barely _think_ because you look so good.”

This time San moans a little, or shrieks, it’s a strange hybrid of a sound that makes both of them giggle, and San throw a hand over his mouth. He shakes his head, cheeks a bright pink, when Yeosang gets back to littering his neck with tiny pecks, then slowly going lower and lower, right down the arch of his spine.

San grips onto the marble of the sink as tightly as he can when Yeosang disappears in the mirror and drops to his knees behind him, hands on San’s waist, his hips, between his legs to spread them a little. Then on his ass to pull him open.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes when Yeosang’s tongue flutters over him, immediately pulling back at the sound.

“This okay?” He asks, his cheek pressed against San’s skin, fingers holding him in place with purpose.

“Y-yeah, just… didn’t expect that…” San says quickly, nodding hard enough to make droplets fly from his hair. He presses himself back against Yeosang’s grip then. “You can do that. I like it.”

Smiling, Yeosang gently bites the soft skin of his ass before pulling him apart with even more strength, his thumbs grazing over San’s hole and making him gaps once more. “That’s good, because I like it a _lot_.”

He doesn’t take more time before licking over his lips and bringing his mouth back to San, his tongue swiping over his skin delicately, feeling the muscles twitch underneath his touch. It tastes just like the bath water, smells exactly like it and slowly but surely numbs Yeosang’s senses, making him feel messy and needy.

The sounds coming out of his mouth, wet squelches and filthy moans, melt together with San’s more shy voice. He’s only whining here and there, sometimes gasping in surprise when Yeosang plunges his tongue in a little deeper or pulls back to swipe a finger through the mess.

He’s wet and filthy, not caring that his spit is coating his mouth and chin, the tip of his nose. He only dives in even more eagerly each time, feeling San relax and open up for him more and more, his rim soon puffy and pink, clenching for Yeosang as soon as his touches leaves, even if just for a split second.

Wetness drips over Yeosang’s finger when he pulls back further to get some air into his lungs, making it almost too easy to slide the digit in, nearly no resistance to be found. It makes Yeosang moan filthily as he uses the back of his other hand to wipe his mouth, curling his finger inside of San just so, to feel him shudder around him.

“Do you have lube here?” He asks breathlessly, keeping his hand as still as possible to give San the chance to collect himself and reply. He does so with a stuttered affirmation, reaching over to a cabinet and flinging the door open to grab the first bottle standing there, used up halfway already, clearly loved.

He basically drops it down on the ground next to Yeosang, needing his hands to steady himself against the sink so he won’t just topple over against the mirror. Chuckling, Yeosang uses his free hand to pump a generous amount of the lube onto his fingers to warm it up, before pulling his finger out of San.

The other whines in protest, even stomping his foot, until suddenly even slicker fingers are pressed into him, two easily sinking in. San’s cock throbs against the marble as he pushes back, wanting more, wanting _quicker_ , because he knows he could take it.

He’s glad though, that Yeosang takes his sweet time, lips pressing against San’s lower back when he begins to move his fingers in rhythmic motions. His fingers aren’t particularly long, but he still manages to make it feel as if he fills San out just right, maybe not enough, but still good. For the moment at least.

Kissing turns to biting soon, crescent shapes of red pushed into San’s pale skin, interrupted by tiny bruises that will surely be purple by the evening, a reminder that Yeosang was there, even if just for a few days. It makes San moan, beg even, and Yeosang is too weak to resist, so he pulls his fingers out to lube up another one, sinking back in with a hint more reluctance, slowly but surely.

He can feel San clench tight around him, even notices his heartbeat in the vein that runs along the inside of him, his pulse quick and frantic and Yeosang wonders how long he could torture him like this. How long it would take for San to grow soft, or to come. Whichever would arrive first.

It’s not the right time to find out, so he shakes the thoughts away and begins crooking and moving his fingers just so, spreading San open enough, but not too much as to get him too far, not yet. Or well, maybe he’s already as close as Yeosang feels and that would be just as unfortunate.

With a surprising noise, a drawer is pulled open and things fall to the floor, boxes of band-aids, gauze and painkillers and all kinds of at-home-meds. They clatter onto the tile as San begins to swear, trembling fingers fumbling for something in the drawer.

Yeosang watches as he finally appears to find what he searched for, slamming the drawer shut as his trembling hands rip into it. “Knew I had a box here too,” he says breathlessly before reaching backwards and holding a foil packet out to Yeosang. “I’m ready, come _on_.” His tone is whiny, desperate.

As desperate as Yeosang feels.

Carefully but with determination, he pulls his fingers out of San and wipes them on one of the towels on the floor, watching as San’s rim clenches tightly, glistening with lube and spit. He feels unsteady as he stands up and grabs the condom, trying to keep composed while he opens the packet.

His cock is so hard, it almost hurts when he rolls the condom on, smoothing it down before grabbing the lube from the floor and pouring some more on, not caring enough to warm it up. He just needs to get inside of San and if San’s pleading and begging is anything to go by, the other might need that even more.

“Come on, _come on_ , I need you,” he whines when Yeosang finally pushes himself up against him, one hand guiding himself to San’s rim and the other wrapping around his chest, leaving glistening trails in his wake that reflect magically in the light. “Give it to me, come o- _oh_ -“

San is stopped in his brabbling when Yeosang finally nudges his way in, the blunt tip of his head suddenly opening him up and sliding in easily the first few centimetres. Gasping, San uses one hand to hold himself up while bringing the other around Yeosang’s forearm, right as his other arm wraps around him too, their bodies now completely connected as he pushes in.

Shuddering, San lets his head fall back against Yeosang’s shoulder, accompanying each inch of him getting deeper with a short _fuck, fuck, fuck_. His back is arched a little and he swears it should be visible how Yeosang fills him out, like he should be able to see it in the mirror, but when he blinks his eyes open through a blurry veil, it’s just his stomach as it usually is, only Yeosang’s arms posing a difference.

When he can finally feel Yeosang press against his back completely, a deep breath leaves San’s lung, the light sting having pulled through his insides pushed away with it. It’s more of a dull ache now, a steady pressure, a warm constant inside of him slowly turning into something sweet and delicious. San feels spit run over his lips where his tongue pokes out all on its own accord.

“F-fuck, you’re bigger than I thought, oh my _god_ ,” he sighs, voice raspy at the edges and so, so gone.

Yeosang grins against his shoulder and shakes his head. “You touched me earlier, you saw me,” he says softly. “I’m not that big.”

San chuckles a little, moving his hips from left to right just to feel the weight inside of him in different angles. “You sure feel big,” he says. “ _Fuck_ , I won’t be able to sit properly tomorrow.”

“I haven’t even moved yet, you don’t know that…” Yeosang’s tone is gentle and amused, his voice straining only a little as he waits for San to relax a bit more, to give him the go ahead.

“Oh, baby, I know,” San slurs, a giggle spilling from his pretty mouth. “Good thing I don’t have to sit in a boring meeting tomorrow morning, huh? And good thing there’s loads more of the weekend left for you to make sure I won’t be able to move.”

Yeosang’s hips stutter, making San breathe in sharply. “ _San_ , you can’t just say these things,” Yeosang whines. “Do you know how much I have to hold back right now? You’re not making it any easier on me…”

“You could be moving by now, just saying,” San jokes, his head falling to the side and into the crook of Yeosang’s neck.

The other feels heat rush over his skin. “Okay, I will, but I want you to watch yourself in the mirror,” he whispers. “You need to see how incredible you look right now.”

Whining, San pushes himself up as best as he can, nearly falling forward, if it wasn’t for the arms around him. At first, he looks at Yeosang in the mirror, feeling breathless at the sight of the man over his shoulder, knowing what he just did on the floor, what he’ll be doing any second now.

Then San looks at himself and a moan leaves him. Yeosang is… he’s _right_ , San really does look pretty. He looks different than usually, not all professional expressions and clothes, but even softer. Less refined and more wild, more like he should be.

His cheeks are a bright pink, his eyes glossy and dark and his lips puffy. He licks over them on instinct, watching his tongue move before he tilts his head and admires the sharp line of his jaw that he sometimes finds a little too aggressive. His damp hair is mussed up too, falling into his eyes a little and-

San’s mouth opens in a moan and his eyes roll back when Yeosang suddenly pulls his hips back and slips out, one arm leaving San’s middle to readjust the condom at the base of his cock before he fills him back up. Deep.

It reverberates through San completely, making it impossible for him to keep watching his mirror self as he’s being jostled with Yeosang’s movement. Fingers come digging into his hips, giving Yeosang better purpose to pull back again, painfully slowly dragging against San’s walls before pushing in.

His eyes stay on San the whole time, watch each and every reaction on his face as he settles on a soft, yet incredibly deep rhythm. He isn’t even really thrusting into San, not truly _fucking_ him. All he does is take away slowly and deliberately in a way it stings for both of them, before pushing back in and making San yearn for every inch, until Yeosang is sheathed completely once more, waiting there, assessing San, and then repeating it.

It is painfully soft, softer than Yeosang thinks he ever had sex with someone, but San looks so beautifully gone, his noises so light and airy as he holds himself up as good as he can, his cock rutting against the hard sink.

Yeosang doesn’t want to ruin that, even if his body almost screams at him to go further, do it harder, faster. He doesn’t need to, not when his middle is pulled tight already and anything more could push him over the edge.

Keeping up his gentle torture, Yeosang brings his lips to San’s neck again, just keeping them there while he wraps his arm around his middle and takes San’s cock into his hand as best as he can in the small space between his body and the marble.

“I-I can’t believe you went from eating me out like a starving man to this s-soft kind of sex,” San breathes, interrupted by small moans here and there. “Giving me whiplash and not in the way I’m used to when I get fucked.”

“I can fuck you like that too if you want to… later,” Yeosang replies, his voice thin and breathy. “But I think this is how I need it right now… and how you need it.”

San looks at himself in the mirror, at his hooded eyes and swollen lips and he throbs in Yeosang’s hand. “I think you’re right,” he replies quietly. “Even though I wish we could kiss.”

With a smile, Yeosang uses his free hand to pull San back against him even tighter, before turning his head with a finger on his jaw. “We can,” he says, slowly kissing his way up his neck. San shudders and clenches around him, turning his head to make it as easy as possible.

Their lips meet trembling and soft, wet with too much tongue and too little direction of where to take it, but just like it fits perfectly in the moment. Yeosang can’t pull out as far like this, but he quickens his movements somewhat, into sharp thrusts that sends delicious jolts right to San’s middle.

He thrusts his cock into Yeosang’s fist as best as he can, moaning into the kiss to urge him on and only with a few more drags of the other inside of him he comes, his orgasm hitting him hard enough for his jaw to go lax, tongue swiping even messier against Yeosang.

With San clenching so tightly around him, he follows soon after, having to pull back from the kiss to catch his breath but keeping close to San by bringing their foreheads together as he releases into the condom, his cock pulsing deep, deep inside of the other.

They stay like this until the air between them gets too thin and San slips away, falling forward to hold himself up over the sink as best as he can. He’s sweaty and even splotchier pink in his face than before, his lips wet and even fuller and he looks incredible. He _feels_ incredible.

He can’t help but smile as Yeosang falls against him, pressing him further against the marble as his cock grows soft. “There’s cum on your mirror,” he pants, sounding completely spent. San laughs softly and looks up again, finding that he made a mess not only of the sink, but also of the bottom of his mirror.

“Guess we have to clean that,” he says, his voice raspy. “But later, the day is still young after all.”

Yeosang grins into San’s skin, a familiar feeling at this point, and nods. “Later.”

They stay like this for a bit longer, just panting and trying to will their hearts to stop beating so harshly. Yeosang slips out of San at some point, feeling him shudder, but he can’t will himself to move away, even if just to remove the condom.

“I don’t think I want to go on a walk today,” he says with a chuckle and can feel San nod under him.

“We have better things to do, I think,” he says with a grin audible in his voice. “But that reminds me, didn’t this whole _going on a walk_ thing start because you wanted to give me back my boxes?”

With a shy giggle, Yeosang finally pushes himself up and pats San on the back, grinning at him in the mirror. “I forgot them at home,” he says before looking down and finally tying up the condom. “Guess we just have to meet up privately again.”

Shaking his head, San pushes himself up as well and turns around, wrapping his arms around Yeosang’s shoulders after he puts the condom into the bin. “What a pity,” he mouths with a wink, before connecting their lips again, the feeling familiar, like they’ve known each other for years.

It still feels that way when Yeosang gets out of San’s car on Monday morning and gives him a short peck, before grabbing his hand and walking into the bank together. Linda nearly drops her cup of coffee at the sight of them, squealing into her fist.

“What happened to not wanting to be seen together at work?” She asks, as if that’s the reason she hasn’t seen the two together like this before. San and Yeosang exchange a knowing gaze and walk over to her.

“I think we’re done hiding,” San says with a grin, easily playing his part in the lie that might not be a lie anymore. Not after the weekend.

“Yeah, we’re definitely done hiding.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please leave kudos and comments, they make my heart happy, no matter if it's a keysmash or a 5k word essay <3
> 
> Twitter/CC: ninchannie


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